


In the Dark of Night

by fashionmodelbucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fashionmodelbucky/pseuds/fashionmodelbucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Winter Soldier: Relearning yourself is trial and error.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dark of Night

Steve wakes with a jerk, his breath rushing out in a gasp as he feels a heavy weight slam into his chest. There’s a fist in his hair, pulling his head back and his heart pounds as the cold metal of a gun barrel is shoved beneath his jaw. He is instantly alert, eyes wide as he sees the haggard, worn face of his best friend looming above him. Bucky’s skin is pale and his blue eyes have a manic gleam in them as he glares down at Steve. Steve forces himself to take a breath and tries not to move as Bucky struggles to say something. His voice sounds even worse than he looks, all ragged and hoarse.

“I know you, don’t I?” It comes out as barely above a whisper but Steve can hear the conflict behind it. The fact that Bucky’s speaking in English and not Russian is a good sign but it doesn’t stop his chest from aching as he nods slowly. The pressure of the gun eases a little as Bucky leans back slightly. Steve still doesn’t move, doesn’t even hardly breathe. Bucky closes his eyes and his non metal hand trembles a little. He exhales noisily and looks down at Steve again.

“Tell me how.” The demand is familiar, delivered in the Winter Soldier’s dry rasp but wrapped in Bucky’s curiosity. Steve shoves his grief down even as he begins to talk. He talks about growing up in Brooklyn and being sick and Bucky always being there. He talks about back alley brawls and watching Bucky dance with girls. He tells Bucky all the highlights of their childhood and living together before the war and everything in between. The story has been told so many times now that Steve doesn’t even stumble over his words anymore. His voice is low but he knows Bucky can hear him. Bucky can always hear him no matter how quiet he talks. Bucky told him once that he’d always be able to recognize the sound of Steve’s voice, to just not give up on him, to just keep talking.

Since finding Bucky again, Steve has learned how to deal with the deprogramming and shifts of identity. Bucky has good days where he can handle some contact outside of Steve and Natasha and he’s more the Bucky that Steve remembers. Sometimes, though, he has those bad days, where the screams echo through the night and there is nothing of Bucky beneath the Winter Soldier’s dead eyed glare. 

Steve talks steadily for almost an hour until he sees that Bucky’s breathing is matched to his own. He doesn’t break eye contact with Bucky even for a second as he falls silent and waits. Bucky stares down at him for what feels like forever with that empty, blank expression until he shifts his weight again and blinks. Steve can see the dim awareness flood back into Bucky’s eyes and the ice cracks just enough for him to see his old friend in there again. 

“I was dreaming of you.” Bucky’s voice is a little warmer and he flinches as he sees the gun in his hand. “I was dreaming of you reaching out to me on the train again and when I thought I woke up, all I saw was that room again. I thought I was back in that chair.”

Steve reaches with a gentle hand to take the gun from Bucky and brushes his finger across the safety switch before he stretches his arm across the mattress to drop the gun down to the floor. Bucky lets him take it and he leans forward over Steve with a pained moan and buries his hands into Steve’s hair. His breath comes out in gasps and he shakes as Steve wraps his arms around him.

“I could have hurt you. I could have shot you.” Bucky tightens his grip and buries his face into Steve’s neck. 

“You didn’t though, Buck. The safety was still on. You weren’t even speaking Russian this time. It’s alright. We’re alright.” Steve feels his eyes burn as his best friend clings to him and he runs his hands slowly up and down Bucky’s back until the shaking calms. Bucky’s weight is heavy but Steve doesn’t care. Steve can stay just like this for hours if that’s what it takes. He holds his best friend in his arms and contemplates what it would be like to slowly crush the life out of everyone who had a hand in destroying Bucky like this. Steve knows good and well that revenge wouldn’t make it right but it’d definitely be satisfying. It’s probably a good thing that they’re all already dead because if they weren’t, Steve would have no qualms about shattering his Captain America image if it meant he got to pay them all back.

Steve’s absentmindedly toying with the ends of Bucky’s hair when he feels a warm finger slowly brush against his knit brows above his nose and he blinks. Bucky’s voice is a quiet rumble against his chest and his breath tickles when he speaks.

“Those are some pretty unpatriotic thoughts you’re having there, Captain.” Steve smiles slightly at the jab. If Bucky’s making jokes, he’s doing better. Steve sighs and catches Bucky’s hand to entwine their fingers.

“I wish there was more I could do for you, is all. Those bastards deserve more than a quick death.”

“There’s not much anyone else can do. I gotta work through this mess on my own. Trust me. You do help. Being able to be here like this with you, it helps more than I thought possible.” Bucky pushes up with his metal hand to look Steve in the eye. Steve’s chest tightens at how alive Bucky’s eyes are and he can’t help but lean up and press his lips to Bucky’s own. Softly and lacking any real heat behind it, the kiss is calming and it anchors Steve in a way nothing else has since watching Bucky fall from that train. Bucky pulls away with a sigh and resettles himself on top of Steve’s chest. 

“Go back to sleep, Steve. I don’t want to move for the next hundred years and so neither are you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last year and forgot about it lol. As always, you can find me [here](http://fashionmodelbucky.tumblr.com/)


End file.
